Dell Shannon (1921–1988)
Autor(a) de Exploit of Death
About the Author
Disambiguation Notice:
(eng) Dell Shannon was a pen name of Elizabeth Linington. She also used Anne Blaisdell, Lesley Egan, Egan O'Neill. She also published under her own name. Do not combine her with Del Shannon (1934–1990), the singer-songwriter.
Séries
Obras por Dell Shannon
The First Linington Quartet: Greenmask!; No Evil Angel; Date with Death; Something Wrong (1964) 22 exemplares
Forging an Empire: Queen Elizabeth 2 exemplares
Schooled to Kill, a Luis Mewndoze Mystery 1 exemplar
Flash Attachment 1 exemplar
Perché i poliziotti hanno l'ulcera 1 exemplar
Associated Works
Run Scared | The 12th of Never | Run to Evil 2 exemplares
Etiquetado
Conhecimento Comum
- Nome legal
- Linington, Barbara Elizabeth
- Outros nomes
- Linington, Elizabeth
Blaisell, Anne (pen name)
Egan, Lesley (pen name)
O'Neill, Egan (pen name)
Shannon, Dell (pen name) - Data de nascimento
- 1921-03-11
- Data de falecimento
- 1988-04-05
- Sexo
- female
- Nacionalidade
- USA
- Local de nascimento
- Aurora, Illinois, USA
- Local de falecimento
- Arroyo Grande, California, USA
- Locais de residência
- Glendale, California, USA
- Educação
- Glendale College (BA|1942)
- Ocupações
- crime novelist
historical novelist
writer
Fatal error: Call to undefined function isLitsy() in /var/www/html/inc_magicDB.php on line 425- Elizabeth Linington was a prolific novelist and writer, producing about 80 books in her career. Called the "queen of the procedurals," she was one of the first American women to write police procedurals — a male-dominated genre before that. Her novel Case Pending (1960), which introduced her most popular series character, Lieutenant Luis Mendoza, head of the Los Angeles Police Department's homicide squad, was awarded runner-up for Best First Mystery Novel from the Mystery Writers of America. Nightmare (1961) and Knave of Hearts (1962), in the same series, both were nominated for Edgar Awards in the Best Novel category. Her interests in archaeology, the occult, gemstones, antique weapons, and languages were reflected in her works. As noted below, she wrote under numerous pen names.
- Nota de desambiguação
- Dell Shannon was a pen name of Elizabeth Linington. She also used Anne Blaisdell, Lesley Egan, Egan O'Neill. She also published under her own name. Do not combine her with Del Shannon (1934–1990), the singer-songwriter.
Membros
Críticas
“This had been, in all probability, a deliberately planned murder; and contrary to all the fiction, a big-city homicide bureau didn’t run into that sort of thing very often.” — Luis Mendoza’s thoughts
Coming just before Mark of Murder, Root of All Evil is Elizabeth Linington (Dell Shannon/Lesley Egan/Anne Blaisdell) at her crime-writing best; which is to say better than just about anyone before or since. This one is very complex, as a couple of cases take on lives of their own expanding and eventually intertwining. John Palliser has a larger role in this one, his smart hunches and lateral thinking paying off big dividends for Mendoza and Hackett. Commies, a burglar/rapist, a young murdered girl, and a six year old murder will eventually come to a head in Arizona, across the border, as Mendoza tries to figure out how prostitution, blackmail, and a Commie spy named Thronwald brought about the death of young blonde and pretty Valerie Ellis, whose body was dumped on a parochial school playground. Even how her drugged body got there is a mystery for much of this book.
Meanwhile, Hackett and Palliser are desperately searching for a rapist/burglar the papers are calling Lover Boy. All they know is he’s a big black man with a pockmarked face. Because there was much racial tension at the time — this one is from 1964 — Hackett is trying not to stir up more trouble in Los Angeles’s black community than the Muslim factions within same community are already stirring. But he has a job to do, and he intends to do it. The Commie angle comes to light fairly early in the Valerie Ellis case Mendoza is working, as does her hooking. When Valerie’s notebook comes to light, and the Feds become involved, Mendoza is more surprised that the cool and seemingly uninterested-in-sex rich girl Valerie Ellis was hooking, than he is at her falling in with Commies. Mendoza’s unspoken thoughts:
“Because, look at it from that angle — Valerie, spoiled, used to having money, and only nineteen — a lot of mixed-up kids that age got caught up by the ideals of Communism. The impossible ideals. Communism, Socialism — two sides of the same coin. Sounding just fine, a wonderful idea — only the catch was, neither remotely workable until human nature got entirely changed around.”
There is blackmail, false leads, a bottle of drugged wine, two lovers of foreign folk music, a phone conversation that has a bearing on both cases, and a murder at first attributed to the rapist/burglar. Intricate and complex, Linington uses both Mendoza and Hackett to comment on society and its relationship to the law, and policemen, who carry out the arduous and difficult task that often goes thankless by those they are protecting. When interviewing a girl Luis is certain knew about a badger game Valerie was running with a pimp, he ruminates, not for the first time in the series, on why he hasn’t quit the force, since he and Alison are secure financially. His thoughts go on for three or four paragraphs, in a sharp and damning indictment of the honest citizenry, who are not only unappreciative of the muck and mire cops have to probe in so that honest citizens can sleep safely at night, but ready with glee when one of them falls victim to it. Just like Mendoza’s insightful musings on Communism and Socialism, and its appeal to the inexperienced and naive youth, his thoughts are as apropos for current times as they were in 1964. Perhaps even more so. Mendoza's thoughts on cops and the honest citizenry they protect become much too lengthy and insightful to quote, but here’s how it concludes in Mendoza’s head:
“For some five seconds Mendoza succumbed to a prevalent disease among police officers and hated the honest citizenry with a beautiful savagery.”
As Mendoza learns more and more about Valerie Ellis in life, through interviews and evidence, both Mendoza and the reader form a picture of her —
“I’ll tell you no lie, gentlemen, that one was bad medicine. There was a streak in her kind of scared me, you want to know. A wild streak — real wild. Especially when she was lit up a little.” — Eddy Warren, Valerie’s pimp
Mendoza wonders if it was her wildness or her greed that got her killed. Or was it the Commie angle? How wild was the cool young blonde?
“Anything went with Valerie, so long as it brought in the cold cash. — I remember once she was telling me how a guy passed out on her, and she laughed and said all of a sudden she wondered how it’d feel to stick the bread knife in him. That kind of wild…” — Eddy Warren
Nothing here is a spoiler. I could quote pages from this one and you still wouldn’t figure it out, because the cases have so many tendrils, and unexpected connections. One case ends in a way which will offend the delicate sensibilities of some, but it rings true for the time period, and is actually quite sad. Luis’s case turns out to have at its core a story-line which could have been ripped from today’s headlines, yet still comes as a surprise to the reader because of Linington’s deft slight of hand. But there is still that tip, the phone call. How does a six-year old murder play into it all, and what murder? If this fabulous Luis Mendoza mystery had ever been published with an alternate title, it might well have been Blackmail City.
Linington always weaved the domestic life of her cops into the narrative, and there is just as much happening on that front as with the various cases! Alison’s had the twins, and they’re keeping Luis and Alison up at night. Luis wants Alison to get a nanny, but that proves to be no easy chore. One nanny even dares to kick Bast, one of the Mendoza’s four cats. Sheba and Nefertiti don’t see a lot of action in this one, but the half Siamese, half Abyssinian cat El Señor’s encounter with a big stray tom in the neighborhood will finally lead Alison straight to her nanny. And it will be that encounter which gives Luis the final piece of the puzzle he needs to wrap everything up tidily, just as he likes. Except this time, Luis both likes and sympathizes with the person he’s caught, even has respect for what they were doing, and the reasons why.
Just a terrific mystery read, with tons going on. As always Linington blends the domestic life of Luis and Alison brilliantly with the police procedural elements. Linington didn’t just find her own water level, as musician Herb Alpert always talks about, she seemed to be the only one in the water, because no one else was doing it quite like her. You’ll start off thinking this one is slightly dated because of the Iron Curtan angle, but before it’s all over, you’ll find many aspects of the story could easily have been ripped from any newspaper in any big city only yesterday. Just terrific stuff from a great crime/mystery writer. Whether she was writing as Dell Shannon, Lesley Egan, or Anne Blaisdell, Elizabeth Linington was in a class all her own.… (mais)
Coming just before Mark of Murder, Root of All Evil is Elizabeth Linington (Dell Shannon/Lesley Egan/Anne Blaisdell) at her crime-writing best; which is to say better than just about anyone before or since. This one is very complex, as a couple of cases take on lives of their own expanding and eventually intertwining. John Palliser has a larger role in this one, his smart hunches and lateral thinking paying off big dividends for Mendoza and Hackett. Commies, a burglar/rapist, a young murdered girl, and a six year old murder will eventually come to a head in Arizona, across the border, as Mendoza tries to figure out how prostitution, blackmail, and a Commie spy named Thronwald brought about the death of young blonde and pretty Valerie Ellis, whose body was dumped on a parochial school playground. Even how her drugged body got there is a mystery for much of this book.
Meanwhile, Hackett and Palliser are desperately searching for a rapist/burglar the papers are calling Lover Boy. All they know is he’s a big black man with a pockmarked face. Because there was much racial tension at the time — this one is from 1964 — Hackett is trying not to stir up more trouble in Los Angeles’s black community than the Muslim factions within same community are already stirring. But he has a job to do, and he intends to do it. The Commie angle comes to light fairly early in the Valerie Ellis case Mendoza is working, as does her hooking. When Valerie’s notebook comes to light, and the Feds become involved, Mendoza is more surprised that the cool and seemingly uninterested-in-sex rich girl Valerie Ellis was hooking, than he is at her falling in with Commies. Mendoza’s unspoken thoughts:
“Because, look at it from that angle — Valerie, spoiled, used to having money, and only nineteen — a lot of mixed-up kids that age got caught up by the ideals of Communism. The impossible ideals. Communism, Socialism — two sides of the same coin. Sounding just fine, a wonderful idea — only the catch was, neither remotely workable until human nature got entirely changed around.”
There is blackmail, false leads, a bottle of drugged wine, two lovers of foreign folk music, a phone conversation that has a bearing on both cases, and a murder at first attributed to the rapist/burglar. Intricate and complex, Linington uses both Mendoza and Hackett to comment on society and its relationship to the law, and policemen, who carry out the arduous and difficult task that often goes thankless by those they are protecting. When interviewing a girl Luis is certain knew about a badger game Valerie was running with a pimp, he ruminates, not for the first time in the series, on why he hasn’t quit the force, since he and Alison are secure financially. His thoughts go on for three or four paragraphs, in a sharp and damning indictment of the honest citizenry, who are not only unappreciative of the muck and mire cops have to probe in so that honest citizens can sleep safely at night, but ready with glee when one of them falls victim to it. Just like Mendoza’s insightful musings on Communism and Socialism, and its appeal to the inexperienced and naive youth, his thoughts are as apropos for current times as they were in 1964. Perhaps even more so. Mendoza's thoughts on cops and the honest citizenry they protect become much too lengthy and insightful to quote, but here’s how it concludes in Mendoza’s head:
“For some five seconds Mendoza succumbed to a prevalent disease among police officers and hated the honest citizenry with a beautiful savagery.”
As Mendoza learns more and more about Valerie Ellis in life, through interviews and evidence, both Mendoza and the reader form a picture of her —
“I’ll tell you no lie, gentlemen, that one was bad medicine. There was a streak in her kind of scared me, you want to know. A wild streak — real wild. Especially when she was lit up a little.” — Eddy Warren, Valerie’s pimp
Mendoza wonders if it was her wildness or her greed that got her killed. Or was it the Commie angle? How wild was the cool young blonde?
“Anything went with Valerie, so long as it brought in the cold cash. — I remember once she was telling me how a guy passed out on her, and she laughed and said all of a sudden she wondered how it’d feel to stick the bread knife in him. That kind of wild…” — Eddy Warren
Nothing here is a spoiler. I could quote pages from this one and you still wouldn’t figure it out, because the cases have so many tendrils, and unexpected connections. One case ends in a way which will offend the delicate sensibilities of some, but it rings true for the time period, and is actually quite sad. Luis’s case turns out to have at its core a story-line which could have been ripped from today’s headlines, yet still comes as a surprise to the reader because of Linington’s deft slight of hand. But there is still that tip, the phone call. How does a six-year old murder play into it all, and what murder? If this fabulous Luis Mendoza mystery had ever been published with an alternate title, it might well have been Blackmail City.
Linington always weaved the domestic life of her cops into the narrative, and there is just as much happening on that front as with the various cases! Alison’s had the twins, and they’re keeping Luis and Alison up at night. Luis wants Alison to get a nanny, but that proves to be no easy chore. One nanny even dares to kick Bast, one of the Mendoza’s four cats. Sheba and Nefertiti don’t see a lot of action in this one, but the half Siamese, half Abyssinian cat El Señor’s encounter with a big stray tom in the neighborhood will finally lead Alison straight to her nanny. And it will be that encounter which gives Luis the final piece of the puzzle he needs to wrap everything up tidily, just as he likes. Except this time, Luis both likes and sympathizes with the person he’s caught, even has respect for what they were doing, and the reasons why.
Just a terrific mystery read, with tons going on. As always Linington blends the domestic life of Luis and Alison brilliantly with the police procedural elements. Linington didn’t just find her own water level, as musician Herb Alpert always talks about, she seemed to be the only one in the water, because no one else was doing it quite like her. You’ll start off thinking this one is slightly dated because of the Iron Curtan angle, but before it’s all over, you’ll find many aspects of the story could easily have been ripped from any newspaper in any big city only yesterday. Just terrific stuff from a great crime/mystery writer. Whether she was writing as Dell Shannon, Lesley Egan, or Anne Blaisdell, Elizabeth Linington was in a class all her own.… (mais)
“And, like most cops Varallo was not among those who disapproved of the death penalty per se — for one thing, so much more economical; but, not exactly a fair exchange, for the Brandons or for Paul. If the sentimentalists were right in saying that the death penalty was nothing more than crude revenge, well, my God, he thought, could it ever be enough revenge — for a bright ten-year-old boy?” — Varallo
Run to Evil is the second in the Vic Varallo series from the pen of the prolific Elizabeth Linington, who also wrote under the Dell Shannon, Lesley Egan, and Anne Blaisdell monikers. She was a long-time favorite crime writer of Anthony Boucher, during a period when so many of the great crime and detective writers were around. While her Luis Mendoza series was her most famous and long-running, her Vic Varallo series, and the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series were also very, very good.
The rose-loving Vic is finally moving upward — if slowly — within the Glendale Police Department. Laura is four months pregnant as this one opens, and a young precocious boy named Brandon seems to be inserting himself into the lives of everyone in the neighborhood. He can be annoying, but Linington gradually shows him to be a good kid, as both Vic and Laura become somewhat fond of him, even in his intrusiveness. And then suddenly, just as happens in real life, he’s dead. The streets of Glendale are getting an overhaul, and he’s been trapped in a hole in a tragedy. Or has he?
Vic quickly concludes it’s murder, convincing his pal Charles O’Connor, the burly Irish counterpart to Vic’s tall Northern Italian heritage, to help him find the killer of a ten year old boy. It was no wonder that Paul knew everyone’s secrets, due to his nosiness, but which secret got him killed? It would seem to have little connection to a particularly vile kidnapping and murder gone sour elsewhere, and much more to do with a coded diary in which Paul wrote things down. The code is easily cracked, revealing many suspects, too many, in fact. And then the coin is found in the hole where Paul was dumped after being murdered, and some surprises follow.
O’Connor romances a school teacher who is far from his type in this one, and what Katheryn discovers about Paul’s only friend Gordon will unearth more mystery. Linington shines as she gets into the head of both Paul and Gordon, with not a false note to be found. Other crimes are going on simultaneously as usual in a good police procedural, including some odd break-ins to the school. What can it all mean?
What it means for the reader is a solid police procedural blended with the personal lives of the cops. Vic and Laura are a nice couple, and this one’s a bit sad, but also very good. Not quite as good as The Borrowed Alibi, but a very solid four-stars for the way Linington blends the various elements of police procedural with cozy mystery, and her terrific writing. Linington loved cats, and in this one, Vic and Laura get one from Paul and name him Gideon Algernon Cadwallader! Good stuff from the early 1960s.… (mais)
Run to Evil is the second in the Vic Varallo series from the pen of the prolific Elizabeth Linington, who also wrote under the Dell Shannon, Lesley Egan, and Anne Blaisdell monikers. She was a long-time favorite crime writer of Anthony Boucher, during a period when so many of the great crime and detective writers were around. While her Luis Mendoza series was her most famous and long-running, her Vic Varallo series, and the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series were also very, very good.
The rose-loving Vic is finally moving upward — if slowly — within the Glendale Police Department. Laura is four months pregnant as this one opens, and a young precocious boy named Brandon seems to be inserting himself into the lives of everyone in the neighborhood. He can be annoying, but Linington gradually shows him to be a good kid, as both Vic and Laura become somewhat fond of him, even in his intrusiveness. And then suddenly, just as happens in real life, he’s dead. The streets of Glendale are getting an overhaul, and he’s been trapped in a hole in a tragedy. Or has he?
Vic quickly concludes it’s murder, convincing his pal Charles O’Connor, the burly Irish counterpart to Vic’s tall Northern Italian heritage, to help him find the killer of a ten year old boy. It was no wonder that Paul knew everyone’s secrets, due to his nosiness, but which secret got him killed? It would seem to have little connection to a particularly vile kidnapping and murder gone sour elsewhere, and much more to do with a coded diary in which Paul wrote things down. The code is easily cracked, revealing many suspects, too many, in fact. And then the coin is found in the hole where Paul was dumped after being murdered, and some surprises follow.
O’Connor romances a school teacher who is far from his type in this one, and what Katheryn discovers about Paul’s only friend Gordon will unearth more mystery. Linington shines as she gets into the head of both Paul and Gordon, with not a false note to be found. Other crimes are going on simultaneously as usual in a good police procedural, including some odd break-ins to the school. What can it all mean?
What it means for the reader is a solid police procedural blended with the personal lives of the cops. Vic and Laura are a nice couple, and this one’s a bit sad, but also very good. Not quite as good as The Borrowed Alibi, but a very solid four-stars for the way Linington blends the various elements of police procedural with cozy mystery, and her terrific writing. Linington loved cats, and in this one, Vic and Laura get one from Paul and name him Gideon Algernon Cadwallader! Good stuff from the early 1960s.… (mais)
The eighth entry in the Ivor Maddox/Susan Carstairs series of police procedurals is very good, a solid entry in the series — Linington never wrote a dud. Perhaps a shade below the best in the series when judged against those entries, so probably a terrific four-star rather than five this time out for me, but only because I'm such a fan that I'm familiar with her extensive oeuvre.
A missing eighteen-year-old-girl who was a bit silly but not the type to simply run off, a woman called Juanita who picks up men looking for love and robs them, an older woman found dead in a burglary gone bad, but not before she got off a shot, and an old man whose home was destroyed from the inside in the most disgusting way possible by teenagers with no conscience are just some of the cases on the docket of the Wilcox Hollywood Precinct this time around. Susan, now married to Maddox but still working as a cop at this point in the series, is frustrated that her and Maddox’s attempts to have a baby have so far failed. Between detective work on the case involving the missing girl, which has a sad end, she has short rants about the “libbers” and those hollering about the “right” to kill babies.
Written in 1977, this doesn’t feel dated at all, as cops lament the state of society and what it’s coming to. Through their voices and their reactions to the cases Linington gives us a common sense argument for sanity and morality. Those things being abandoned by a loud and angry minority in our time does not make them out of date. Morality and common sense didn't go out of date in fiction simply because a loud minority want to abandon traditional values and insist you join them, as Linington makes clear through the voices of her cops. The revelation of just who Juanita is may be politically incorrect and raise the cackles of some, but it is most certainly of modern times in every single way, whether people like hearing it or not.
Legwork and hunches, and some luck, which cops always need more of, help solve some the crimes thrown at Maddox and the gang this time around. But the cases get wrapped up nicely by the end, and after a look at the worst society is capable of, Linington gives readers, and the Wilcox Precinct gang, a look at the best we are capable of with the resolution to the old man whose home was thrashed by desensitized teenagers. A dash of hope, even in 1977, that at some point Good would prevail.
All in all, a very enjoyable outing in the series. Linington’s capturing of dialog, how people actually speak, will be a bit jarring at first for those new to her, but marvelous when it clicks that this is the way people truly speak, especially to cops questioning them. Good stuff from the Queen of the police procedurals. Her Mendoza series was great, and Vic Varallo, but the Maddox/Carstairs series is perhaps my favorite from this prolific writer whose work has aged extremely well, despite what others say to the contrary.… (mais)
A missing eighteen-year-old-girl who was a bit silly but not the type to simply run off, a woman called Juanita who picks up men looking for love and robs them, an older woman found dead in a burglary gone bad, but not before she got off a shot, and an old man whose home was destroyed from the inside in the most disgusting way possible by teenagers with no conscience are just some of the cases on the docket of the Wilcox Hollywood Precinct this time around. Susan, now married to Maddox but still working as a cop at this point in the series, is frustrated that her and Maddox’s attempts to have a baby have so far failed. Between detective work on the case involving the missing girl, which has a sad end, she has short rants about the “libbers” and those hollering about the “right” to kill babies.
Written in 1977, this doesn’t feel dated at all, as cops lament the state of society and what it’s coming to. Through their voices and their reactions to the cases Linington gives us a common sense argument for sanity and morality. Those things being abandoned by a loud and angry minority in our time does not make them out of date. Morality and common sense didn't go out of date in fiction simply because a loud minority want to abandon traditional values and insist you join them, as Linington makes clear through the voices of her cops. The revelation of just who Juanita is may be politically incorrect and raise the cackles of some, but it is most certainly of modern times in every single way, whether people like hearing it or not.
Legwork and hunches, and some luck, which cops always need more of, help solve some the crimes thrown at Maddox and the gang this time around. But the cases get wrapped up nicely by the end, and after a look at the worst society is capable of, Linington gives readers, and the Wilcox Precinct gang, a look at the best we are capable of with the resolution to the old man whose home was thrashed by desensitized teenagers. A dash of hope, even in 1977, that at some point Good would prevail.
All in all, a very enjoyable outing in the series. Linington’s capturing of dialog, how people actually speak, will be a bit jarring at first for those new to her, but marvelous when it clicks that this is the way people truly speak, especially to cops questioning them. Good stuff from the Queen of the police procedurals. Her Mendoza series was great, and Vic Varallo, but the Maddox/Carstairs series is perhaps my favorite from this prolific writer whose work has aged extremely well, despite what others say to the contrary.… (mais)
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Estatísticas
- Obras
- 102
- Also by
- 3
- Membros
- 3,516
- Popularidade
- #7,224
- Avaliação
- 3.0
- Críticas
- 57
- ISBN
- 358
- Línguas
- 2
- Marcado como favorito
- 4
Having read many efforts in the Mendoza police procedurals many years ago, I revisited the series with the first effort, Case Pending, and remembered why I enjoyed them so much. Besides breaking ground by having the main character be Hispanic, there was a distinctness about the series in the manner Linington chose to present them. They straddled the line between traditional mystery storytelling and police procedural storytelling, which was just being defined by McBain. The Lt. Mendoza stories always had involving side stories which intersected with the main case in some way, though not always evident until the end. They also contained subtle psychological insights (sort of P.D. James-extra light) into not only the main characters, but often those surrounding the crime or crimes being investigated. In some ways, these were just as much short novels as they were police procedurals. Linington was a fine writer, walking the high-wire between the two, and seldom faltering. The Lt. Mendoza series makes a nice contrast to the grittier 87th Precinct novels of McBain.
Not recalling much of Case Pending (it had been decades since I read it) I found it to be terrific. Because it is the first in the series, Mendoza is still single here, Linington defining his character, and setting the template and tone for the series. To her great credit, since there must have been pressure to have Mendoza be exemplary, she writes him as very likable but also flawed. He dresses above his pay grade, for example, drives a Ferrari — albeit a 13 year old Ferrari — and is a bit of a womanizer (which will change as the series progresses and he becomes a family man). He is also more than a touch vain, though he is quite aware of this weakness.
Linington paints Mendoza as an excellent detective, a man not uncaring, but mostly doing his job and taking pride in doing it well. Mendoza isn’t crazy about puzzles and solving them, which makes him refreshingly different from other more traditional cozy detectives. He is compelled, however, to solve crimes because he doesn’t like leaving things undone. Case Pending is also brave — for its time period — in that it flat-out shows that while Mendoza will work with equal vigor to solve the individual murders of two very different girls, he secretly views one of the murders as a greater tragedy, because that girl was going to amount to something, while the other was most likely not. This honest assessment of how police privately view crime, especially because it is coming from a Hispanic cop, is quite bold for the time period.
As Mendoza, along with his subordinate Hackett, attempt to tie the slayings of the two girls together on the slimmest of evidence, because Mendoza has a hunch, two separate stories begin to subtly interplay with his investigation. One concerns a couple of young boys and a mother, the other a man in a jam whose only way out may be murder. When Mendoza discovers one of the girls had complained of being watched by someone at the skating rink, and then a new doll she’d just purchased went missing from the crime scene, the other stories start to tie in with the case he’s working on. Mendoza also meets pretty Alice in this first entry, and begins to court her.
I highly recommend this if you like a blending of traditional mystery and police procedural. It is extremely well-done and quite involving. It is not, however, as gritty nor as fast flowing as Ed McBain's 87th Precinct series. In fact, it leans toward a cozy which just happens to be a police procedural as well. If you do enjoy it, there are a slew of them available on Kindle to supplement — and contrast — the grittier 87th Precinct series by Ed McBain.
On a footnote: the transfer of text to Kindle of this over fifty-year-old novel has some issues. While all the text is justified, there are quite a number of typos throughout which were not in the original. It is by no means even close to the worst I’ve seen, and it’s not as annoying because it’s generally easy to see what is meant or was supposed to be there. You will, however, run across it on a fairly regular basis with the Kindle version. Depending on your tastes, and your affinity for once popular series from prior decades, you might be ecstatic to discover an old/new series you’ll enjoy reading from time to time.… (mais)